Anon
by Captain Peregrine
Summary: Lost in the darkness, all the Atlantis team can hope for is that they will find each other again.
1. Chapter 1

Rodney ran through the woods blindly, following the dim sounds of his companion. Teyla was as quiet as a shadow, but the surrounding forest was so silent that even he could hear her—which meant that pursuit would be close behind them and catching up fast.

The rain hung in the hair like a fine mist, coating Rodney in a trickling layer of cold damp that caused his hair to cling to his forehead and dribbled down his nose. When he let his breath out in a panting gasp, it blew in the air before him and formed a misty cloud that came back to hit him in the face. He brushed at his face to wipe away the distracting water, but all his attention was focused on Teyla. The woman was the only person capable of keeping him alive right now. Without her, he was probably doomed. As it was, even with her he was probably doomed. The Wraith were everywhere and only sure damned luck would save them now. He only hoped that the others got away…

Rodney almost ran over Teyla's small form when she suddenly skidded to a halt, barely slipping on the slick ground. Rodney knew he was being as loud as a charging bull as he stumbled to a halt, grabbing the nearest branch to keep from falling on his ass in the mud. He looked at Teyla, saw her hair clinging to her forehead and bare shoulders, and then at the surrounding forest.

"What?" he gasped in a harsh whisper. "Why are we stopping?"

Teyla turned slowly to face Rodney and he felt his heart contort at the pained look in her eyes.

"I am sorry, Rodney." She whispered, the rain dripping down her face like tears. "But we can go no further. The Wraith are ahead of us and they are behind us. They will be upon us in minutes."

At first, Rodney said nothing. He simply stared at her, his mouth slightly open, and all he wanted to do was grab her shoulders and shake her, to scream that they couldn't stop, that so long as they were alive they had the ability to run and run and run…

But then something inside of him shifted and he closed his mouth, his lips pressing firmly in a thin, crooked line. He knew his eyes were impossibly wide and he probably looked terrified, but he nodded and pulled his gun from its holster. It was a simple 9mm and probably only had three or four rounds left, but it helped to make him feel a tiny bit more secure.

"Then I guess this is where we fight." He said, wondering if he would have said words like that three years ago. Probably not. Three years ago, he would have been curled up in a tiny ball on the ground, blubbering like an idiot. Or—more likely—he would have been dead already.

McKay saw a look of pride and respect slowly creep into Teyla's eyes and for once, he actually felt brave. He felt like he could stand and fight and maybe even win—probably not, but just maybe. He at least knew that if this warrior woman believed in him, than the least he could do was believe in himself.

At least right up until the moment he died. Then he could feel free to cry and bitch and moan to his heart's content. Maybe it would give the Wraith indigestion.

Oh, one could only hope.

For several moments, there was no sound except the steady, drizzling tap of the rain as it splattered peacefully upon the surrounding leaves, sliding down to hit the earth. He felt it trickle down his neck and face, warming in his hair so that it felt more like blood running down his skin than water. The image was a thoroughly disturbing one, but somehow appropriate.

There was a quiet sound as Teyla drew her knives—a weapon as pitiful as his gun, but solid enough to give them both some comfort. She took a familiar stance, one Rodney had seen her take in sparring lessons against Sheppard many times, and looked at him. With her hair plastered to her head and her dark eyes glittering darkly in the rainy night, Teyla looked every bit the warrior princess—dangerous, beautiful and proud. At that moment, Rodney had never been so proud to call her a friend, or as proud to be called a friend by her.

"Teyla…" Rodney's voice broke and he took a deep breath, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Thank you. For everything."

Teyla smiled slightly.

"It was an honor, Rodney McKay." She said, her voice gentle and calm even though they were both about to face certain death. "And even knowing that it would still lead to this very moment, I would still be proud to call you friend."

Rodney couldn't find the words to respond, so he simply nodded and cocked his gun.

Somewhere a branch snapped and McKay could hear the quiet thump of footsteps. He felt his blood run cold as he looked at Teyla's face, seeing the familiar shudder ripple across her face as she felt the nearness of her enemy. But despite the disgust and fear, she remained still and calm. She looked at him again and smiled, before she turned her back to him and stepped back until they were almost touching. Silent, they stood back-to-back and faced the darkness.

With a crash, the Wraith burst through the underbrush. There were only two of them, but they were enough. With a cry of brutal hunger, they rushed forward. Rodney's gun echoed in the night, firing three shots before the weapon clicked and told him that it was empty. With a sick feeling forming in his stomach, Rodney chucked the gun at the monster's head in a last ditch effort to ward it off. But the Wraith, ignoring the three bleeding holes in its chest, merely ducked out of the way of the harmless weapon and grinned.

Behind him Teyla let out a cry and Rodney turned to see the woman clasped around the throat by the other Wraith's taloned hand. She was heaved off her feet and then slammed into the ground, gasping painfully for breath as the Wraith knelt beside her and raised its feeding hand. Rodney could see a dozen bleeding slashes healing themselves and knew that the Wraith paused only because she had stuck one of her knives clean through its hand-mouth.

Rodney forced himself to face forward again and found himself face to face with his own Wraith. Its reeking breath nearly knocked him off his feet and Rodney had never felt more like falling to his knees and sobbing. But he owed Teyla that much at least and stood tall, facing his death like a man instead of like a cringing coward.

The Wraith grinned and clasped McKay around the throat, lifting him until he was almost standing on his tiptoes.

"When I am done with you," it hissed through rotting teeth, "I shall kill the one you consider to be your mate."

Rodney's eyes widened and he felt his entire body go cold.

"Oh, God," he gasped, "don't you touch Eliza—"

There was a loud noise and the Wraith jerked, its eyes flying wide. McKay felt its grip around his throat loosen and he crashed to the ground just as the alien ray gun roared again and the Wraith fell dead to the wet earth beside him. A third and fourth shot killed the Wraith preparing to feed off Teyla and she slowly got to her feet, looking down at her attacker with wide eyes as she rubbed her throat.

Ronan stepped into the tiny clearing that had formed during their scuffle. With the rain dripping down his stony face and his dreadlocks clinging to his head, Ronan looked even more feral and dangerous than usual—which was saying something. He looked terrifying, but Rodney had never been happier to see him.

The former Runner stepped over the deceased Wraith and reached out a hand for Rodney. The shaken astrophysicist accepted and was unceremoniously hauled to his feet, grunting painfully as Ronan's none-too-delicate grip damn near tore his arm out of its socket. Rodney rubbed his shoulder and glared up at the Satedan.

"About damn time." He grumbled. "What were you doing out there anyway, playing hide-and-go-seek?"

"Shooting." Ronan grunted in his usual, chatty way. Rodney felt a tiny smile tug at his crooked mouth.

"Hmm. Well, I suppose it's good to see you, then. And thanks for, uh," Rodney motioned at the body behind the giant man. Ronan didn't even glance behind him.

"You're welcome." He growled as Teyla stepped up to stand beside Rodney, the Athosian still rubbing her sore throat.

"It is good to see you, Ronan." She said breathlessly. She glanced at Rodney and smiled. "Very good."

Ronan stood like a statue for a moment before he suddenly leapt forward and engulfed both of them in a crushing bear hug. Teyla laughed and hugged him back while Rodney, though appreciating the gesture, slapped Ronan's arm and gasped for air. Ronan laughed and released them, quickly grabbing McKay's arm to keep him from tumbling backwards into the mud.

"Yes, well, thank you for that." Rodney said sarcastically and Ronan grinned, recognizing the familiar banter that he was so familiar with. A moment later his smile faded away when Rodney, trying to look nonchalant, looked at Ronan and asked, "have you met any of the others? The Wraith mentioned that there might still be people alive out there…"

The desperate tone in Rodney's voice was enough to break even Ronan's heart and he took a moment to collect himself by reholstering his powerful gun. He took a breath and looked Rodney square in the eye.

"No." he said simply, bluntly. "Everyone else I met was either Wraith or dead."

Rodney's breath hitched.

"Did you see—"

"I haven't seen Sheppard or Dr. Weir. Alive or dead."

Rodney groaned and slowly sank to the ground, his knees giving out beneath him. Teyla and Ronan both leapt forward to catch him and eased him to the cold earth so he wouldn't hurt himself. McKay let his head fall between his knees and he took several deep breaths.

"They could still be alive then." He whispered without looking up. "They must still be alive…"

Teyla looked down at Rodney with such a sad look on her face that she looked like she was about to cry. She glanced up at Ronan and then at Rodney, opening her mouth to speak.

"We should get moving." Ronan said before she could say anything. "More Wraith will probably be heading for this spot. I killed a dozen or so already heading here."

Teyla looked grateful for the interruption and nodded.

"Ronan is right, Rodney." She said, looking down at the dripping man. "We will be no use to anyone if we are caught."

Rodney nodded and started to get to his feet. He shook off the offer of aid and instead got his hands buried wrist-deep in mud as he pushed himself to his feet. Wiping them off on his all but useless tac vest, Rodney motioned into the woods.

"Lead the way, Chewbacca."

Ronan grinned and, removing his gun from its holster once again, stomped off into the trees with Teyla and Rodney trailing close behind. None of them even glanced back at the charred bodies lying lifeless in the mud and collecting pools of water. No one cared enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth felt like she was traveling through a nightmare. Wearing only her boots, trousers, t-shirt and a black tac vest, Elizabeth was way beyond being cold. She didn't even think she was shivering any more, which was probably a very bad sign. She rubbed her freezing arms with her hands, but the friction seemed to do little good. She knew that the only reason she was probably still alive was because she hadn't stopped moving.

Or run into any Wraith. That was certainly another reason she was alive.

Stumbling through the forest, her curly dark hair clinging to her face and forehead, Weir strained to see the dark silhouette of Sheppard somewhere ahead of her. She could just hear him moving through the underbrush, but he was always just one step ahead of her. He stayed close enough to make sure she could hear him, but never so close that she could actually talk to him without calling out. She knew it was to make sure she didn't ask to stop because stopping now would certainly mean her death, but she suspected another reason as well. She thought that Sheppard had finally been pushed past his limit.

Fleeing from Atlantis had been traumatic enough. Only a handful of men and women had made it into the puddle jumpers before the Wraith had started bombing the city. Of that handful, Weir hadn't been able to keep track of how many had landed, but she suspected John had. She suspected that he knew exactly how many men and women had been killed in the city, and how many had died on the way to the mainland. And she suspected he knew how many people were currently wondering lost and cold and frightened through the wilderness, being picked off one by one by the Wraith. And because of that, Sheppard had disappeared into himself. Oh, he was still there on the outside, but he was a different man now. Over the course of only a few days, Weir had seen a dramatic and terrifying change in the once laid-back, charismatic Colonel. He had become quiet, withdrawn, watchful. After the first few days he had spoken only when absolutely necessary and now he didn't talk at all. He only stalked through the forest at a pace that Elizabeth could hardly keep up with, and one she couldn't understand how he was managing. Elizabeth had managed only a few hours of restless sleep in the past several days and she knew that Sheppard had slept even less—if at all. He had hardly eaten anything, so far as she could tell, and the only water he had probably had was what was dripping into his mouth as the rain trickled down his face.

Elizabeth knew Sheppard was pushing himself in an attempt to undo what he considered to be a mistake. A good dozen or so people—including Sheppard and herself—had escaped Atlantis in their puddle jumper. Shortly after they had landed, however, they had heard the Wraith moving through the forest and Sheppard decided that it would be best if they split up. Originally it had been into three groups, each with four members, who would then meet up later. But something had gone wrong and the three groups had splintered and had lost each other in the rainy forest. Immediately afterward Elizabeth and Sheppard had heard them dying, distant screams echoing through the trees. The night the screams had started, Sheppard had stopped talking.

Half-blind in the wet darkness, cold and miserable and frightened, Elizabeth had never felt so alone in her life. She was a fugitive, a hunted animal hiding in wet holes and stumbling through a frigid night. She had lost all sense of time, loosing track of how many sunsets and sunrises had passed since they had fled the city. She had forgotten a lot of things, too, in that time. She couldn't remember her old address on Earth, or Simon's middle name. She couldn't remember the name of her first high school crush, or the names of the moon's orbiting Saturn. She couldn't remember where she had graduated college, or what languages she could speak. All she could remember was how to walk. She remembered how to put one foot in front of the other, stumbling through the darkness after a shadow that never spoke and never stopped.

Elizabeth's foot hit a root and before she could catch her balance, she felt herself tumbling forward. She didn't even have time to cry out before she had fallen, face first in mud. She lay there for a moment, her nose filling with the calming scent of wet earth, before she raised her head and spluttered, coughing and gagging on the slim that had clogged her mouth and throat. She took a ragged gasp to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her, but she made no move to get to her feet. She was so tired now that she had even forgotten how to get up. She just wanted to lie down and quit. She was tired, cold, wet, muddy and miserable. Her friends were dead. Her family was dead or a billion light years away. She was alone on a planet that had once been her home.

Elizabeth looked down and saw her hands splayed out in the mud before her. Her gaze settled upon the pathetic loop of string knotted around her finger. A pathetic loop of string exactly like the one worn by a certain astrophysicist, lost somewhere in the woods around her. A certain arrogant scientist who was probably as cold and wet and muddy as she was, and just as lonely and frightened. A man who she feared she would never see again, or worse she would see lying lifeless on the ground, aged beyond recognition with a ragged hole bleeding on what had once been his chest…

A ragged sob escaped Elizabeth and she scrabbled uselessly at the mud in a vain attempt to get to her knees—or perhaps to dig deeper into the cold ground beneath her. She didn't know. All she knew was that she was tired and terrified and so lonely she thought her heart would shatter into a thousand pieces and stab her from the inside out.

Elizabeth heard footsteps squelch in the mud and she looked up slowly, not even caring if it was a hungry Wraith ready to descend down upon her. But it wasn't a Wraith—it was John Sheppard. He stood before her and looked down at her, his hazel eyes lost in shadow. He didn't move for a long time and for several minutes they simply stared at each other, Sheppard standing in the mud and Elizabeth lying covered in it at his feet. Then, slowly, Sheppard knelt to one knee in front of her and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper, "let's get out of here."

Elizabeth stared at Sheppard's hand, then slowly raised her eyes. For the first time in days she was looking directly into Sheppard's face and what she was frightened her. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes, and his face looked pale and hallow. But his eyes were bright and she saw a faint spark in there, an echo of who he had once been and who he once again could become, should time allow. She saw the friend she had thought she had lost, the brother she feared had abandoned her in his shattered madness.

But here he was, kneeling in the mud before her, reaching out for her.

Slowly, Elizabeth reached out and took his hand. He gently pulled her to her feet and held her hand tightly while she steadied herself. Gripping his fingers tightly, Elizabeth looked down at herself. The front of her pants and her tac vest were covered in mud. She could feel the stuff caked in her hair and she knew her face was probably lost beneath it. She looked up at Sheppard and for a moment they stood silent, simply staring at each other.

And then Sheppard smiled… and then he laughed.

"If only McKay could see you know." He chuckled, still holding her hand. "You look awful."

Elizabeth almost fell down again, so powerful was the relief that flooded her. She felt as if she were suddenly weightless and she had been lifted up by a great, warm wind and was swirling through the sky. She wanted to laugh and cry, but she settled for a wry grin.

"Why thank you, John." She said dryly. "But I've heard mud is very good for the skin."

John snorted and brushed at her face, showing her his mud-slick fingers.

"Uh-huh. Well, if that's true then you'll be Helen of Troy in no time."

Weir stuck out her tongue and slapped Sheppard's shoulder with her free hand. Sheppard laughed and then, growing slightly more subdued, tugged at Elizabeth's fingers.

"Come on," he repeated. "Let's go."

Elizabeth smiled and didn't mind at all when he finally released her hand. She didn't care that she was still following him, or that for the most part the only noises she heard were the squishes and squelches made by their boots. All she cared about was that, for now, she had her friend back and suddenly she wasn't feeling nearly so lonely.


End file.
